Lydia Armageddon, Lisa Huo.
Russian Bastion: 'Our Place,'
The year 2173.
"Catch your breath."
Lisa gasped. "I-I'm try- trying...!"
"You'll need it for when I take flight, breathe."
Anthony waved for the four men beside him to move forward, in front of the squad, the ten gunmen scattered behind cover. Lydia, failing to mask her rage, sediment from the crushed bricks coating her face, settling in her and Lisa's hair.
Anthony shouted, their eyes locked onto each other. "You can't fly away, Lydia."
"Like fucking hell I'm believing you. I know you have this place surrounded, even if you hit me I'll be fine!"
"Oh, I know!" Anthony said, pointing at the girl in her arms. "But, can she? The Wildfire?"
Lydia's eyes darted around the room, observing the concrete, smoldering stone mounds, perched guns, and quiet footsteps. Not firing, not yet.
"Why?! Why now, Romanov?!" Lydia shouted through her gritting teeth, looking down at Lisa cradled in her arms. "Why did you wait until now... FUCK!" She screamed, shaking her head.
Two bright green neon lights flickered through the shadow, he sat down to watch as his men approached, victory in his grasp.
"You're worth money," He answered. "A lot of it. The World Capital douchebags want you, which means I'd be on good terms with them, and this place might be safe because of that. If I hide you here, my Sanctuary will be decimated when they find out. It's how it goes, Lydia."
Anthony exhaled in a huff, putting up the front of his smug, uncaring expression. "I'm sorry it has to be this way."
A guttural shunk of tearing flesh came from one of the four men. Miroslav's forearms split open, extending his bones to form blades akin to praying mantis claws. Like Miroslav, Samuil stood close with seafoam green eyes focused on her.
"... I can't fucking believe you two," Lydia said under her breath, eyes darting up and down at Lisa, and the men standing in shadowed moonlight.
Crack!
Two chains struck the ground like a cracking whip, deep blue lightning crackling and striking with it. They were attached to the bulky, rustic cybernetic forearms, welded together crudely with metal pipes and beams. The man had long matted black hair obscuring his face and beard, wearing a torn jean jacket with black combat pants.
Beside him was a man with brown braided hair tied back, wearing an amaranth tank top, streaking along the length of the base where his waist began as a band of vibrant turquoise. His beige pants were baggy and stitched together at where his knees were from gunshots, knife fights and other encounters.
All of their combat boots picked up the pace, moving carefully. The four men wore the same belt with the angled crest of Restavratory, 'The Restorantists.'
"Remember what we talked about, Rurik." The man with braided hair whispered, cocking his head to the side with clanking mechanisms snapping as they turned, cranking the chains.
"I know, Erik," Rurik said. "You first, then me."
Tucked behind a fallen piece of the metal roof, fire scraping their skin in burning heat. Lisa caught her breath.
Lydia grabbed her face, looking deeply into her eyes. "Lisa," She kissed her on the forehead. "Everything is going to be okay."
"Lydia," Lisa swallowed her tears, her breathing unstable, holding her face too. "I'm scared."
YOU ARE READING
Mother Earth.
Science Fiction"I want to create a better world where no one hurts each other, to foster a place where love doesn't have to make hate, where no one hurts or kills anybody. A world where I don't have to hurt anybody anymore." The First Dawn has concluded; Children...
